


No Better Love

by bluefallenfandomwallflowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Because I just fucking love tears apparently, Bottom Castiel, Coda, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Episode: s12e10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets, I cried while writing this, Like omfg is there no tag to explain incredibly emotional smut, M/M, Okay wait there we go omfg, Smut, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefallenfandomwallflowers/pseuds/bluefallenfandomwallflowers
Summary: It takes him over another edge, fingers reaching for Dean’s face, the perfect lilt of his cheekbones and the swoop of his lips, blood red from Cas’ own, from what he needs and gives because there is no better love and no love will ever compare to this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> So, hey lookie, I'm here with another emotional coda that i wrote after the episode because I just love my emotional hurt/comfort, don't i?
> 
> I totally cried while writing this and seriously, i have a problem with wanting to hurt myself and make one of them cry while the other takes care of them XD
> 
> But oh my gosh, i really really loved this episode guys! I didn't like fem!Cas though, tbh, cause of many reasons i won't go into unless you want me to which im guessing you don't, but the rest of it was pretty badass and Destiel was everywhere and I felt like they all took really good care of Cas tonight, even in the midst of silent treatments and sarcastic comments that made me laugh hysterically and then cry.
> 
> But anyways, without further ado, please enjoy this little smut scene that weirdly means so much to me! <3
> 
> [Title taken from "Better Love" by Hozier, another fav :3]

“Please,” Cas begs, twisting his bare foot in the sheets tensely, afraid to open his eyes because then the tears might start falling and he doesn’t want to lose this, lose them.

But Dean must understand, he has to.

They are both broken, but together they fit like intricate puzzle pieces, unlike anything either of them have felt, or at least Cas is hoping.

“I’ll take care of you,” Dean whispers, lips pressed against Cas’ ear as one hand holds up his thigh, the other opening him up slowly, almost at a brutally slow pace, but he’s breathing hard from the desire, the need building up inside of his chest.

His grace is pounding, and Dean is careful, treating him delicately, like Cas might shatter in his hands.

Under different circumstances, Cas would be annoyed by this, wanting to treat Dean the way _he_ deserves because he has spent so long doing it for everyone else, all the time.

But he _is_ broken tonight, and it shows. He’s tired, bright, feeling so much clearer than he has in months, but still so unsure.

He has them back, has Dean by his side where Cas can keep a watchful eye on him. It should be enough, but then why does he still feel empty and anxious? Like a piece of him is still missing?

It was all tumbling inside of him for so long he doesn’t know what day it is, how long it’s been since he felt something good. He doesn’t know of the consequences that will proceed his actions of killing Billie, or if Lily Sunders will return one day, asking for his life.

He doesn’t even know whether he will even fight back if she does.

But right now, he needs to feel. Needs to have Dean touching him, filling up that hole inside of his chest until he can forget about everything and simply focus on what they have together, the scent of leather and beer and Dean surrounding him and clogging his senses.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Dean shifts above him. “I’m not mad at you,” Dean repeats from earlier, pulling away, only his hands on Cas, fingers working steadily.

He keeps his eyes shut tight, lips parting when Dean’s fingers touch something inside of him, setting his nerves alit, his body like a comet hurling for the unknown.

“You mean you’re not mad at me any _more_ ,” Cas corrects, voice sorrowful. He lets out a whimper when Dean presses in further, hand tightening on the soft skin of Cas’ thigh.

With a light huff of amusement, Dean rubs his thumb on Cas’ knee, thoughtful. He’s in charge, gentle, trying to communicate that Cas is safe here beneath him. It’s so evident, and Cas could cry out from just the incessant need to let out every emotion he has ever had, let his light fill the room, let himself blow up.

“I guess that’s it,” Dean says truthfully. “I hate when I’m mad at you though.”

“ _I_ hate when you’re mad me,” Cas agrees, turning his head to let his cheek press into Dean’s pillow. It’s comforting, the scent of him. His bedhead, his conditioner, his worry in stupendous quantity and happiness, rare, but never completely depleted.

“You ready?”

He nods briskly. Dean slides his fingers out and Cas can hear the bottle clicking open again, the feel of Dean’s warm fingers shifting him by the hips until he has Cas where he wants him.

Cas puts every cent of trust in him, his body and his grace, their unfortunately rare opportunities to do _this_ and be together and show every ounce of love that he holds for him.

And his breath hitches and he grips Dean’s neck and bicep as he glides into him, and suddenly they’re pressed together and Cas is afraid.

“Baby?” Dean is breathing heavily, but all his focus is on Cas and it should embarrass him, but he’s frozen, aroused and lost, all at once.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, hot tears finally slipping past his eyelids and making their way to his jaw, dripping down his neck, smearing with the sweat collecting on Dean’s collar bone as he hides against him.

“Cas…” A comforting hand, one he knows so well, holds his face tenderly. “You know I’m not trying to right? Give up?”

He shakes, lips pressing together. More tears stream from the corners of his eyes, shut so compactly he might never be able to open them again.

“I’m not leaving you quite yet, sunshine,” Dean says softly, hand gently navigating through Cas’ messy hair, so careful and so kind and he lets out a hushed sob that doesn’t completely leave him.

His face is still wet, but Dean’s thumb wipes it away. “Open your eyes,” he murmurs, lifting Cas’ hips up, his cock sliding in as far as it can.

Gasping at the rush of pleasure suddenly coursing through him, Cas shakes his head. “I can’t, Dean, I- I’m going to ruin this. I can’t ruin this.”

“You’re not going to ruin anything,” Dean says firmly, and then he’s pulling out and thrusting back in swiftly, making Cas arch his back and moan involuntarily. “Open your damn eyes, Cas.”

Dean’s hips move back and forth rapidly, his speed building along with the pleasure coiling inside of Cas like a spring. Unable to hold back, Cas’ eyes flutter open and he meets compassionate green eyes, red lips, Dean’s own stray crystal tears, barely visible as they run to the back of his cheeks. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, and it comes out as a whine and Dean is incessant as he fucks him hard, the bed rocking, Cas’ shoulders unable to sink into the memory foam as he bucks up, cock trapped between their stomachs at every thrust.

Their gazes stay locked, Dean’s eyelashes swooping down as his face contracts, letting out groans that make Cas feel stronger, like a wild animal kept in captivity for too long.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moans, just because he can, and Dean smashes their lips together, hungrily biting at his lips until someone’s blood is on his tongue and he can’t tell whether it’s his or Dean’s.

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” Cas fiercely whispers, nails digging into Dean’s shoulders, the tears still pouring hot as sweat pools at his lower back, in the junction of his right leg. “Don’t make stupid fucking decisions and don’t give yourself up as if you’re nothing. You’re everything.”

Now Dean is whimpering, body stuttering. Their noses connect wetly, tears and sweat mingling, Cas so far gone with throwing himself into this man that he never wants to step back.

“Stay with me forever,” he whispers, and yes it is dangerous territory to venture into, but he means every word and not saying it would only haunt him for the rest of the night.

But Dean isn’t stopping, only fucks harder, gasps. “You know I will, Cas,” he says with a broken voice.

It takes him over another edge, fingers reaching for Dean’s face, the perfect lilt of his cheekbones and the swoop of his lips, blood red from Cas’ own, from what he needs and gives because there is no better love and no love will ever compare to this. Losing him would be the equivalent to losing his own child, _has_ been before, and it’s terrifying.

He could be lost any minute, forever out of Cas’ grasp, and he can’t imagine what he would do with himself.

“Stop fucking thinking,” Dean hisses, the edge of his palm rubbing at Cas’ cheeks because apparently he is crying again. “You’re such an idiot. I love you, so you have to stop doing stupid shit too.”

Cas laughs, tugging Dean’s face to his again as a new wave pulls over him, dragging him to the final brink. He gasps and clenches his eyes shut again, arm looping around Dean’s shoulder and mouth latching onto the space below Dean’s ear as he comes, Dean’s cock punching it out of him till he feels like a waterfall, pouring over jagged rocks and into the tranquil pool below.

He’s washing away in it, heavy as Dean manhandles him closer to fuck him fast and hard, Cas’ own cock spent, utterly debauched. His hands are grabbing for Dean’s hair, keening when Dean changes plans and pulls Cas halfway into his lap.

“Let it all go,” Cas urges, watching the ecstasy roll onto Dean’s face as he slows, fucking up into him and stilling, breath high and airy as he whimpers. He wipes his face, kissing Dean’s jaw as they come to a sated stop. Dean’s hands hold Cas to his chest, smoothing up his spine as he inhales deeply, catching his consciousness

“I’m sorry I make you worry,” Dean confesses quietly after a few moments, his pulse slowing under Cas’ fingers.

“I’ll never stop worrying about you, Dean.” Cas leans back in the cradle of Dean’s arms, eyes finally open and he’s seeing clearly. He feels almost relieved, like maybe he can start to forget what happened for a while, like maybe for just a second he can feel safe. “But I’m selfish about it. I never want you to leave, I never want you to put yourself in danger. I would lock you up if it weren’t unconventional.”

“You couldn’t keep me there,” Dean agrees, eyes sleepy and his smile loving, gentle, a slip of his lips as Cas’ fingertips massage the side of his head mindlessly, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“It would be quite futile,” he whispers.

Once they start to cool down and Dean has goosebumps lining his arms, they slide apart and crawl under the blankets together, the memory foam finally able to suck them into a cozy state, one where Cas wants to say silly things that will probably have repercussions later, but it’s only because he truly feels fatigued.

“Sometimes I want you to lock me up, though,” Dean says, voice full of sleep. “Like, sometimes I just wanna… I don’t know, be _forced_ not to hunt or something. It’s stupid, I know, but yeah. I just—”

“I understand,” Cas interjects, feeling Dean’s nervous tension starting to rise from the release that suppressed it. “Every day I find myself wishing for… Well, for _this_.”

Dean hums, a smile appearing on his face. “Me too.”

“I also apologize.”

“You already said sorry, Cas.” Dean turns to his side so they’re facing each other, eyes soft. “It’s over. At least for tonight. And we’re both exhausted.”

“Yes, I’m very sleepy,” Cas muses, and Dean snorts, rolling back over. He immediately curves along Dean’s back, nose rubbing against his nape. “I love you too, by the way.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, but Cas doesn’t worry, because Dean’s skin is warm and he is breathing out a content sigh and lacing their fingers together.

This moment may be a rare one, but it’s cherished.

And Cas won’t let himself slip so far away that he never experiences it again.


End file.
